The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. I heard only after it was all over. Then instinct took over. "Perhaps things would have been different if she had lived. Did you bring any luggage?" "All I own.
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